


Jealousy

by orphean



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 03:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16653202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphean/pseuds/orphean
Summary: In which there are fights, misunderstandings, and admissions.





	Jealousy

They were having dinner. This, these days, wasn’t a rare occurrence, but it served as a sign – to the MACOs and the Starfleet Security crew alike – that the two leaders had put their differences aside. They were even sharing a beer, damn it, splitting a pint between two glasses, the foam settling to a light froth. Malcolm glanced up at Hayes, never looking at him for more than a moment or two, hoping his glimpses come across as casual and not investigating. As far as he could tell, Hayes never looked at him, not really.

Six weeks had passed since they started sleeping together.

‘What are you thinking for the trainings tonight?’ They talked about work, and only ever talked about work. Alone – in Hayes’ quarters, in Reed’s quarters, in meeting rooms hastily locked with a security code – they didn’t talk. They acted; they moaned; they fucked. There were times, more frequent than he felt comfortable with, Malcolm begged, a slew of words and whimpers and pleas. Hayes always complied, chuckling at his requests – ranging from the off-beat to the profane – or maybe saying nothing at all. He often said nothing. There was nothing to say. There was nothing to talk about.

‘I was thinking pairs.’ Hayes pushed aside his empty plate and sorted through the PADDs that lay between them, gliding one across the table. ‘If you approve, sir.’

Their fingers didn’t touch as Malcolm accepted the PADD. He tried not to think about them, but Malcolm was fascinated by Hayes’ hands: how calloused his fingertips were; how well his hands wrapped around Malcolm’s neck and wrist and cock; how elegant they were gloved in the red leather gloves the MACOs preferred. He looked at the list of pairs Hayes had drawn up. There was nothing to complain about. There never was.

‘Cole and Sato?’ He tried to find something to critique. That would have to do.

‘Are you concerned, sir?’ Hayes dipped his head, meeting his eye for the first time all day. As always, there was that quiet unspoken challenge. All these weeks, and Malcolm still didn’t quite know what he wanted. It, surely, couldn’t always be sex.

‘Of course not.’ Malcolm placed the PADD on top of the pile and Hayes, with movements careful and unhurried, neatened the pile.

‘Mind if I join you?’ They looked up to see Trip, carrying a tray in one hand and a glass of sweet tea in the other. Hayes gestured to the empty chair. ‘What are y’all working on?’

‘Training pairs,’ Hayes replied, not elucidating any further. Malcolm wondered if he rationed his words, trying not to waste his time on speaking. Maybe he just didn’t like Trip. Perhaps he thought he was unprofessional, too familiar with the captain and too keen on a joke. That’s what Malcolm had thought, years ago, before he fell into a schoolboy crush that he only had recovered from in the last few months.

‘You’ll be up against Kemper tonight.’ Malcolm told Trip, who scrunched up his face in protest. Even in that childish pose, he managed to be handsome.

‘That’s no fair! That guy can pack a _punch_.’ Trip moved his head from side to side, rubbing his neck. ‘What I wouldn’t give for a trip to Risa right now.’

‘Risa, really?’ Malcolm sipped his beer.

‘What’s Risa?’

‘A pleasure planet,’ Trip explained to Hayes. Malcolm was surprised he had asked the question, or tried to be part of the conversation. When Trip joined the two of them, in any context, Hayes fell silent, and it was the only time Malcolm could feel his eyes on him.

‘That’s how they _market_ it.’ Malcolm protested, more to Trip than to Hayes. ‘I can’t imagine _anything_ pleasurable about being tied up for twelve hours.’ From the corner of his eye, Malcolm could see Hayes drag his lower lip between his teeth, but he didn’t say anything, and Malcolm was pretty sure Trip didn’t see. He was grateful. ‘Particularly not stuck with you in your underwear.’

‘There are much worse things than that, I’ll assure you.’ Trip waved a fork at Malcolm’s face. For a moment, Malcolm forgot that Hayes was there, and he forgot that he was no longer in love with Trip, and he forgot that he no longer felt the need to pry affection from Trip whenever he found the chance.

‘You don’t have to assure me of anything,’ he replied. He meant it to sound conspiratorial, but the moment it left his lips he heard the flirtatious note, and he immediately tried to think of ways to backtrack, but as he tried to think of something to say, Trip laughed and nudged his shoulder with a closed fist. Trip understood what he meant, and what he meant had been innocent and not demanding anything.

He remembered Hayes, then. He was watching him, his face an impassive mask. His tongue wet his lips, and in the moment Malcolm was distracted by this movement, Hayes stood. He placed his half-drunk beer next to Malcolm’s empty glass, collecting the PADDs with one smooth move.

‘I should prepare for the training,’ he said. ‘Commander. Nice to see you. Sir.’

‘Do you need a hand?’ Malcolm asked, moving to stand. He meant the question honestly, but he meant what he didn’t say, too. He didn’t say that the crew training wasn’t supposed to start for another hour and fifteen minutes, and if Hayes wanted, well then, they had plenty of time for – Hayes put a hand up.

‘No, sir. Enjoy your dinner.’ Hayes nodded at Trip, then Malcolm, and left.

Malcolm only half-listened to Trip’s conversation, primarily focused on complaints about the subpar parts he had traded with a passing ship. He thought about Hayes and wondered why he had left so suddenly.

 

* * *

 

In the training room, Hayes kept his distance. They both circled their own and the other’s troops, assessing their form and moves. Malcolm was in the left half of the hall, where Trip was facing Kemper.

‘Your form’s no good,’ Kemper told Trip, keeping his hands up and backing away. ‘Lieutenant?’

‘Trip, don’t do it like that.’ Malcolm moved Trip’s body, shifting his hands, his shoulders, showing how he ought to carry himself in the fight. His hand stayed between his shoulder blades longer than, technically, he was required to. ‘Feel better?’

‘Yeah, yeah. Feels good.’ Trip shifted his body against his hands, pushing against them and staying there.

‘Beat him, Trip.’ He let his hand slide down his back before he drew away. Moving away, he glanced over at Hayes, who was watching him again. His eyes were fixed on Malcolm until he looked over, at which point he looked away. He barked at Hoshi that her form was poor, that she should just give up that round, and start from scratch.

The rest of the evening passed in silence, interspersed with brief comments of ire from Hayes and words of encouragement from Malcolm. When it was over, the Starfleet personnel and MACO contingent filed out, leaving the two men alone.

‘Want to go?’ Malcolm asked, raising his hands for the sparring and, if Hayes accepted the invitation, sex later on. He nodded, stripping out of the zip-up jumper that was too big even for him, baring bare knuckles.

When he attacked, it was without mercy or patience, hard hits and quick back-offs, not giving Malcolm the time to respond.

‘Why do you do it?’ Hayes asked, glancing another blow and almost reaching Malcolm before he backed away.

‘Why do I do what?’ He was aware that the wall was coming up behind him, side-stepping and managing a hit that Hayes quickly countered.

‘You know.’

‘No, I don’t.’ Malcolm ducked under his arm, attempting a hit that was easily blocked.

‘Tucker.’ Hayes landed a punch, a sloppy hit on his shoulder that wouldn’t even bruise. ‘The way you talk to him. The way you look at him. The way you _touch_ him.’ With each _him_ he said, Hayes renewed his efforts, forcing Malcolm to stumble backwards to stay out of his grasp. ‘Every time you’re with him, you’re flirting.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Hayes stumbled when he put out a foot to topple him, but he didn’t fall.=

‘I think I do. You want him. You’ve _always_ wanted him.’ His smile was leonine and mean. ‘But he – he doesn’t want you. He has never wanted you. And he will never want you.’

Malcolm’s fist connected with Hayes’ jaw. He touched his mouth, checking for blood.

‘Fuck you.’

‘I’m not wrong, am I?’ Malcolm managed to destabilise Hayes, who smashed hard against the floor and was instantly pinned down by Malcolm. Their faces were close, close enough to kiss – something they never did. Hayes would always move his face away, or bite, or growl from the back of his throat. ‘So why are you wasting your time with me? Is it because I fuck you? Because I put up with all the screwed up things that get you off? Is it because I am better than _nothing_?’

Hayes managed to break Malcolm’s hold, rolling them over. He felt the major’s body against his, strong and steady and just south of dangerous. He was angry now, and the words came out without thinking.

‘No. Nothing _is_ better than you. This is over.’ Hayes’ eyes widened just a little, and something became unstuck in his face. Then his cool and furious facade returned.

‘ _Fine_.’ He was back on his feet, watching Malcolm lying on the ground. Malcolm stayed down, knowing that if he got up the fight would continue, and they did not need to be scolded by Archer again. Hayes clenched his fists, his jaw set and firm. ‘Maybe Tucker’s lonely.’

For the second time that day, Hayes stormed off.

 

* * *

 

At first, Malcolm had thought Hayes’ comment about Trip was an encouragement: _now you’re rid of me, go get the man you really want_. But he had sounded so bitter when he said it, words laced with malice, almost spitting the words more than speaking them, that that didn’t make sense. Coupled with Hayes’ earlier insults, it didn’t seem like encouragement. And, for that matter – was Trip even the man Malcolm wanted? His attraction to Trip was something comfortable, like an old pair of slippers that he kept around despite knowing they should have been thrown out years ago. Hayes was something strange and appealing and when they were apart, he found himself thinking about him.

He realised his mistake the next morning.

In the back of the dining hall, he saw Hayes join Trip Tucker for breakfast. Malcolm stood by the door, waiting for his tea to finish steeping, and watched the men.

Hayes’ uniform jacket hung over the back of his chair, revealing the standard issue brown shirt and his strong arms. He was listening intently to some story Trip was telling him, resting his chin on his thumb, his fingers covering his mouth. Trip was stabbing at his morning eggs and bacon, speaking incessantly and – this bothered Malcolm most of all – smiling. A bright, open, happy smile that seemed more genuine than any he had seen on Trip in several months.

As he watched the men, he noticed the similarities he had never considered before. Their hairlines were precise, sideburns fine and sharp. Their noses were snub; their lips thin. Their voices, although he couldn’t hear their conversation, were heavy with American twangs he would never have found believable in a film as a child. There were differences, too. Hayes’ hair was dark, thick, and immaculately styled; Trip’s was golden, fine, and falling in his face like a schoolboy’s. Trip’s eyes were as bright as a summer’s day; Hayes’ were stormier than a winter afternoon. They perfectly complemented each other.

Hayes didn’t want Malcolm to be with Trip. He wanted Trip for himself.

 

* * *

 

‘Here’s my suggestion: go down this afternoon, find the deposits, take readings overnight and then we’ll harvest in the morning.’ It was a senior staff meeting, where Archer told them about an ore deposit that they would be able to trade for parts. The ore was unstable, requiring several of hours of monitoring before it could be transported. ‘I’m thinking Trip, Malcolm, Cutler and the Major. Sound good?’

‘Peachy, cap’n.’ Trip smiled all round – Archer, Reed, even a quick grin at Hayes, who returned a half-cocked smile. Malcolm felt his stomach twist and turn.

‘Fine, sir.’

An hour and a half later, Malcolm manned the shuttle down to the planet’s circle. Trip was in the seat next to him, with Hayes and Cutler sitting behind them. He hadn’t spoken to neither Trip nor Hayes for days. Trip seemed to be aware that something was off, from his frequent questions fn how Malcolm’s was doing, if he needed any help, if he wanted to have dinner between shifts, et cetera and ad nauseum. Malcolm brushed him off the best he could.

‘Thanks for taking us down, Mal.’ Trip saying the shortened form of Malcolm's name was rare, almost always a concession or a peace offering.

‘No problem.’ Some response was needed to stop his wheedling. Behind him, he heard Hayes move.

‘Commander, sir.’ Trip looked back at Hayes. Malcolm kept his eyes on the controls, making the firm decision not to look at Trip and see whatever dopey expression might be on his face. Had they slept together?

‘What’s up, Major?’ Malcolm would never have said that to Hayes, so casual and breezy.

‘When we get down to the planet, sir. I assume we will split up, to cover more ground.’ He said this in the strange way he had, making statements but meaning them to serve as questions.

‘Oh, yeah, that’s the plan. I’m thinking you and me, and then Malcolm and Liz. The readings said there’s no intelligent life, so I’m not too worried, but this way, we’ve each got someone good with guns if that turns out to be false. Sound good?’

‘Of course, sir.’ Malcolm thought he heard a tremble in Hayes’ voice, a note of anticipation.

‘Malcolm? How’s that for you?’ Trip touched his shoulder and Malcolm bit his tongue not to flinch.

‘No complaints, Commander.’

Silence settled over the rest of the flight down, Malcolm focusing on the controls of the shuttle and trying not to listen to the clicks of Hayes inspecting his gun or the scuttle of metal as Trip rummaged in his toolbox.

On the planet, they split up: Trip and Hayes heading west, Malcolm and Cutler trekking north-east. They reached their site first, about an hour’s walk from the landing site. They extracted the ore and set up the monitoring equipment, after which they got their tent ready. The ore would be monitored throughout the night and they would stay close-by, in case anything went wrong. Malcolm and Cutler were eating dinner when his communicator beeped. It was Trip.

‘We found our deposit.’ He sounded delighted, his excitement carried in the rumblings of his voice. ‘It’s a big one. Hayes and I will set up camp. How’s your deposit looking?’

Malcolm looked over at the measuring instruments Cutler had set up. The readings were within normal range, barely moved since they started measuring an hour before.

‘All normal. Anything else, sir?’

‘Are you in a mood, Malcolm?’ Trip laughed and didn’t wait for an answer. He rarely did. ‘Nothing else. Meet back at the shuttle at oh eight hundred hours. Sleep tight.’

The rest of the silence passed in silence, with Cutler reading a Denobulan novel Phlox had lended her and Malcolm catching up on his reports. Soon, it was time to sleep.

In the tent, Cutler’s snoring a faint susurration, Malcolm wondered what Hayes and Trip were doing. Had Hayes made his move? Had Trip been scandalised? Embarrassed? Pleased to be wanted? Happy to be seduced? The images popped into his head without permission: Hayes pulling back from the first kiss, Trip’s eyes wide and his mouth ajar. The second kiss more hesitant than the first, Hayes’ strong fingers tracing down Trip’s sharp cheekbones, then movement – Hayes climbing on top of him, or Trip shoving Hayes to the ground, or –

Malcolm pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, hoping the swirling redness would distract him from the visions in his head. It didn’t.

He didn’t sleep well.

 

* * *

 

Hayes and Trip beat them to the shuttle. They both turned when they heard Malcolm and Cutler approach. Trip was leaning against the shuttlepod, arms crossed over his chest. Hayes stood close to him, his hand on his gun. He took a step toward the approaching pair as Trip called out:

‘Malcolm! Liz! How was your haul?’ He smiled, buoyant. Again, the images came unbidden to Malcolm. Hayes making Trip smile like that, with his hands and mouth and – Malcolm shook his head.

‘Not bad,’ he replied. ‘And yours?’

‘Peachy. Major’s already loaded it in.’ The way Trip said Hayes’ rank made it sound like it was a nickname he had specifically thought up, as though it wasn’t what everyone called him. He spoke it with such tenderness. Malcolm felt pain, physical and raw, tear through his chest.

Hayes took the case of ore from Cutler and hauled it into the shuttlepod without a word. He was silent on the way up to Enterprise. The only sound he made was a brief chuckle when Trip directly addressed him, telling him some mindless quip. Malcolm glanced over at him, and saw him rest his forehead against his palm, leaning against the wall of the shuttlepod. His gun lay on his lap. Malcolm had a hard time reading faces at the best of times, but he thought Hayes almost looked upset. Was he regretting what they had done together? Trip certainly didn’t seem to, chatting and joking to a numb audience.

That evening, Trip joined Malcolm at a mess table that was stacked with PADDs, evaluation reports that Hayes had handed over in silence. He was reviewing his quarterly review on Cole – _exemplary fighter, needs to be more professional in interpersonal relationships_ – when Trip let his tray drop onto the table.

‘You busy?’ He asked in a voice that demanded a _no, not busy_. ‘What’s up? What’s that?’

‘Hayes wanted me to assess the MACO performance reports.’ Malcolm placed Cole’s evaluation on the top of the unread pile. Hayes’ name tasted sour in his mouth. Talking to Trip about Hayes felt – it felt bad, something private that he didn’t want to share. ‘So how was your sleepover?’

‘It was fine. We chatted. He took both watches. Why’d you ask?’ Trip’s eyebrows were knitted together. Malcolm chewed on his dinner before he found himself replying, even if he didn’t _want_ to reply.

‘What did you talk about?’

‘Y’know. This and that. Stuff.’ He waved his fork to indicate the breadth of their conversation topics.

‘Did you sleep together?’ The words came out even as his mind told him to shut _up_.

‘Wait, what, _no_ , Malcolm – what – I – no, um –‘ Trip’s harangue fell out of his mouth with confusion and honesty, ‘why would you think that?’

‘Um, I –‘ Malcolm squirmed under his gaze, now intent in his confusion. ‘I thought you were, well –‘

‘That we’re _what,_ Malcolm? I – no, _no,_ we didn’t.’ He stabbed at his food, chewing on buttered carrots in frustration. ‘If you really want to know – and I don’t think you do because you can’t stand him and don’t care the first whit – he asked me for advice.’

‘Advice?’ Malcolm repeated. When had Hayes ever asked for advice?

‘Yeah, advice. Not – not messing around, geez. He...’ Trip hesitated before continuing. ‘He told me he was in love with someone and that someone was hung up on an ex and he asked what I thought he should do about it.’

‘In love.’ Malcolm heard the words, but even as he repeated them, he didn’t quite _understand_. Surely Trip had misheard Hayes.

‘Yeah, you know anything about it? I wouldn’t‘ve pegged him for the, uh, fraternising type.’

‘No, uh, no, I don’t.’ Suddenly, it became very important for Malcolm to see Hayes _now_ , because what Trip told him made no sense. ‘I have to go. I’ve, um, got to finish up the reports.’

There were too many PADDs for him to comfortably carry as well as his tray. He stood up and stared at them, as though solving for an equation where there was some way to pick them all up at once.

‘Hey, Malcolm, are you okay?’ Trip’s voice sounded distant. He needed to get these PADDs out of the mess hall and he needed to see Hayes and he needed to do it _now_. He managed a nod, finally registering the question. ‘I can take your tray if you want.’

‘Thanks, Trip.’ He felt like he was underwater, his body floating and unreliable. He was halfway across the mess hall when he doubled back to the table. ‘What did you tell him?’

‘Tell him?’ Trip looked up at him in confusion.

‘Yes. You said he asked you for advice. What was your advice?’ He heard the blood in his ears, roaring and rushing.

‘Malcolm, what’s going _on?_ ’ Trip shook his head. ‘I told him if he really was in love, he should tell the person. That honesty helps, whatever the outcome. Mal, are you sure you’re okay?’

‘Yes, I’m _fine_.’ Malcolm called over his shoulder, already hurrying away again.

He needed to find Hayes.

 

* * *

  

Although it was late, the MACO office was teeming with activity. Money, Rodriguez, and Cole sat around the conference table, uniform jackets unzipped or flung over their chairs. They were laughing at something. Malcolm couldn’t help wonder if they were laughing at something his men had done. They glanced up when he entered, but decided to ignore him and return to their conversation.

Hayes was there, too, at his desk at the top of the room. He looked up at Malcolm and, like his subordinates, he didn’t say anything. His eyes carried a challenge, but he didn’t speak.

‘I need the room.’ Malcolm announced. The MACOs looked over at Hayes, who gave a curt nod. They left, jackets slung over their shoulders.

After they were gone, Malcolm realised he didn’t have a plan. He had stormed in like a blue-sky thinker, like captain Archer would, welcoming trouble. Hayes stood, fifteen feet and a desk away. His arms were folded over his chests. Malcolm mimicked the gesture, not wanting to betray any openness, despite everything.

‘You’re in love with me.’ He said, at last. Hayes moved at the words as though Malcolm had thrown something at him. His mouth twitched, but silence spread out like a blanket between them before he spoke. He still stood protected behind his desk.

‘You talked to Commander Tucker.’ Just like Malcolm’s not-question, this was a statement. But, like Malcolm’s, it requested clarification.

‘Yes, damn it, I talked to Trip.’ He bit his cheek to calm himself. ‘Is it true?’

Hayes looked down, surveying his desk. He moved something an inch to his left, and he glanced up before looking away again.

‘I’d like it not to be,’ he said. He frowned and was silent for a moment before he continued. ‘I didn’t want this. If I could change it, I would.’

Hayes’ eyes were burning when he looked up, shocking emotion against a face that still seemed unfeeling. He walked around the desk, leaning against it. He crossed his feet and folded his arms again. Malcolm took, without thinking about it, a step back, keeping the distance between them. He had a lot of questions, and he didn’t know where to start.

‘Why did you tell Trip?’ It was the most inane of the questions that were sticking in his throat. Hayes exhaled and looked away. He tried another one. ‘How long?’

‘Damn it, I don’t know. A while – longer than I should’ve allowed myself. I should’ve called it off.’ Hayes looked pained, glancing

‘Why did you tell Trip?’ Malcolm repeated. ‘When you said what you said, I thought...’

‘That was the _point_. I – dammit, I had hoped if I made you mad enough you would be mean enough that I’d snap out of it. But you weren’t even mean – you were just quiet. And it’s not like Tucker and I have much to talk about. The mission. You.’ Hayes chewed on his lip. ‘I thought he’d have some good advice. Even if he didn’t know it was you.’

‘And did he?’

‘He told me to talk to you. We’re talking. That’s something.’

‘Is this why you won’t kiss me?’ Malcolm took a hesitant step forward, closing the distance between them. Hayes inhaled sharply but didn’t move.

‘Yes. I didn’t want to risk it.’

‘Why?’ Malcolm felt brash and reckless. He was pushing, pushing, pushing. He wondered how much Hayes could take. His fingers were already dug in deep into the cloth of his uniform jacket.

‘It wouldn’t be fair.’ Hayes’ voice shook, betraying the emotion he refused to show. ‘Not to me and not to you. You don’t even like me.’

‘I don’t... _not_ like you.’ The double negative was messy and cowardly, and he knew that.

‘What’s _that_ supposed to mean?’

Malcolm took another step closer. He started to lift a hand, to reach out and touch him, but he let the hand drop. Better not to risk it. Hayes was looking right at him now, his eyes both angry and hurt, and beneath it the affection that Malcolm somehow, stupidly, had never noticed before.

‘When I thought you and Trip were – hm – involved, I wasn’t jealous of you.’ He decided to take the risk and placed his hand on Hayes’ arm. ‘I was jealous of him. Of what he had. And I didn’t.’

‘Don’t do this.’ His voice was pained but he leaned into the touch. ‘You don’t mean this.’

‘I do,’ he said and spread his fingers over the cloth, gently caressing his arm under the uniform jacket. Hayes closed his eyes and released a shuddering breath. He looked sad, and his sadness cut Malcolm deep. ‘I don’t know how to talk about this.’ Hayes had the gall to laugh, quiet and unhappy. ‘Not about this. Action is better than words. You plan, you analyse, then you take action. That’s war.’

‘This isn’t war.’ Hayes’ eyes were still closed, and his voice was softer than Malcolm had ever heard.

‘Isn’t it?’

When he didn’t reply, Malcolm decided to act. The inches of height that separated them made him have to balance on his toes, arching himself up and wrapping a hand around Hayes’ neck as he kissed him. The kiss was short, only a press of lips against lips. Still, he felt Hayes shiver against him, working hard to keep overwhelming emotion in.

‘We could try.’ Hayes sighed and shook his head just a little.

‘I’m not sure we can.’ There was no fight in the words. He reached out and touched Malcolm’s shoulder, a quick brush that turned into a slow caress.

‘Please.’

Hayes looked at him, hard and long, that sadness mixed with love in his eyes – it was so obvious and Malcolm had not understood at all – and sighed again. Then he kissed him.

This kiss was not short and it was not hesitant. It was claiming, and possessive. Hayes’ fingers raked through Malcolm’s hair as he deepened the kiss, as he made up for weeks of not kissing him. Malcolm clung to him, grabbing his uniform for leverage, answering the ferocious kisses with equal need.

‘Hello,’ he said when Hayes let him go, when they finally caught their breaths. Hayes looked at him in amusement. He no longer looked sad, and he no longer looked hesitant.

‘Hello.’ He has taken a step back, away from Malcolm’s reach. The look on his face was that he wore on missions, planning for every outcome. Finally, he spoke. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’ It was an answer, but less of an answer than the kiss, and hell of a less clear.

‘Let’s try. With some ground rules.’ Hayes leaned against his desk, arms crossed. He discussed this as though it was a training exercise, not a potential relationship. Malcolm nodded. ‘No more flirting. I’m not saying you can’t see him, but you’re simpering around him. None of that.’

‘Same for you, then.’ Hayes shrugged.

‘Sure. And – I don’t know. Off-duty only. Discreet. Though half my men think we’re sleeping together anyway.’

‘They do?’ Malcolm was surprised.

‘The best of the best,’ Hayes replied. ‘If anyone would figure it out, it’d be them. But let’s not let anyone else find out. We’re not _technically_ breaking rules, but that is a big _technically_.’

‘Fine.’ And for once, Malcolm was fine. He moved closer again; he stole another kiss. Hayes’ kisses were calmer and softer than he had imagined, and he didn’t want to stop. He knew he had to. This was too long for a regular dressing down, and he didn’t want anyone to walk in on them. ‘Are you off tonight?’

‘I’ll come and see you when I’m off – unless you’d rather I didn’t.’ There was a new kind of shyness with Hayes, a sweet self-consciousness Malcolm had not expected. He liked it.

‘Please come.’

‘If you insist.’

Malcolm smiled, and Hayes leaned down to kiss him once more.


End file.
